


Reality

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21589030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Vina wakes up to the real Adam.
Relationships: Christopher Pike/Vina
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Reality

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

She wakes up to a sea of sun, because that’s how things are in their pretty beach hut by the water. The morning light seeps in through the open windows and permeates every surface, giving her world a pleasant shimmer: even her ceiling is bright and beautiful. She knows that the wooden planks were never part of any tree, but only an illusion, summoned from her mind but holding together so very well. It doesn’t bother her that her bed isn’t _real_ , or that the blankets she’s snuggled under are composed of pure thought. The important thing is that when she rolls around to see him, he’s lying there, and Christopher Pike is a living, breathing man that’s all his own. 

He snores now. He’s drooled a little out the corner of his lips while he was sleeping, which makes her smile, because it’s a tiny detail she never would’ve thought. Her illusory Christopher never slept anything but soundly, only peaceful, right until she’d want him to wake up. Then he’d be bright eyed and ready for her. But _this_ Christopher is no longer under her control, and she loves him all the more for it. 

She watches him sleep. She could wake him, but she doesn’t, because it’s so novel to live out these differences. This is her dream, her choice today: one of her favourites of their small, homely cabins. Tomorrow will be his turn, and they’ll sail across the ocean to a planet of his choosing, dance across whatever hall that he likes best, and fall asleep in the best bed he’s ever known. He’s shown her so many things she couldn’t even have conceived of. But he still allows her to take her turns with the simpler things. She likes hearing the waves wash across the sand outside, and she likes waiting for him to join her. 

When he finally does, she’s still waiting. She hasn’t moved—not thirsty, not hungry: she doesn’t truly _want_ for anything but his company. Then Christopher’s blue eyes are blinking at her, and she smiles for him. 

He smiles back. It’s a soft, sleep-addled thing, crumbling around the edges—it breaks into a yawn. She shuffles closer to brush her lips across his mouth, then pulls back when she realizes that he has morning breath. It makes her laugh delightedly. He brought with him a thousand new sensations. 

He asks, “How did you sleep?” like she could’ve dreamt of anything but perfection. 

Vina hums, “Well, but... I like this better.”

He murmurs, “Me too,” and kisses her.


End file.
